By Greg Alexander
Trevor lay there for a while, just staring at the ceiling and thinking as I licked the soles of his feet. Finally, he grabbed his cellphone and flipped it on. I saw him speed dial someone. “Hey dude…” I heard him say. “Yeah, man. This is Trevor. Yeah, I know, awesome game, fucking right down to the wire . . . yeah I watched the whole thing . . .Listen — I gotta big favor to ask. Are you at the frat right now? Yeah? No shit? Well, would you mind sending one of the pledges over to my dorm room with one of the paddles from downstairs? The really wicked looking long one, yeah . . . no, bro, I’m not fucking around with you. I need it. Why?” He looked down at me and his eyebrows flickered mischievously. “Cuz I wanna show it to my roommate, that’s why. I think he deserves to see it . . . yeah, yeah, I’ll explain later man . . . hey, thanks dude, see ya at practice tomorrow.”
Trevor hung up, and we sat there in silence for a few minutes, Trevor just rubbing his cock idly and examining me.
There was a knock on the door. Trevor got up off the bed, wearing only his T-shirt, and not bothering to cover his ramrod cock, went over to the door. I was of course unable to turn around, but I heard him open it, talk to someone in a muffled voice, and then close it.
As he approached me from behind, I could hear him swinging something wooden against the palm of his hand over and over, making a sadistic slapping sound each time.
“Alright, my little bitch,” Trevor said. “I want you to meet a very special friend of mine.”
Trevor ungagged me, for the second time that day, and set his foul athletic socks, now soaked with my saliva, off to the side. Grinning happily, he dangled his new toy in front of my eyes.
The paddle was rectangular shaped, and very, very long. “Delta Psi” was spelled out in masculine black greek lettering on one of its wooden sides — on the other side, in equally black handwriting, the words “Pledge Trainer” had been spelled out.
“When I was initiated last semester, they used this on my bare ass,” Trevor was saying. “Man, did it hurt. When this thing smacks full speed into your ass cheek — the way it’s about to do to yours — man, after a few strokes, it’ll make you wish you’ve never been born.”
It wasn’t particularly cold in the room, but I found I was shivering. “Please don’t, Trevor,” I managed.
Trevor studied me carefully, incredulously. “Did I just hear something?” he asked.
I just stared at him.
“I could have swore I heard something,” he went on, continuing his verbal game of cat and mouse. “I could have sworn I heard a whiny pathetic little voice begging me for mercy. But I couldn’t have, could I, cuz there’s nobody in this room except me and my little footstool, who by now is well trained enough to know that he gets punished if he ever talks to me without my asking him a direct question.”
I wanted to say something, but I wisely held my tongue.
“And furthermore,” Trevor went on, “I could have sworn I heard that little shitbag call me ‘Trevor,’ which is pretty weird when you consider that my foot stool knows his place enough to never, ever call me that.” As he spoke, he walked around behind me, out of my field of vision, and reached out with his right arm as he moved, sadistically running the paddle’s edge slowly along my side, giving me goosebumps and making me squirm uncontrollably (and futilely, given my immobilizing bondage). “Doesn’t he?” Trevor asked again.
“Yes, sir,” I said, swallowing.
“So if that little bitch had in fact called me Trevor, wouldn’t you agree he was just asking to be paddled?”
I swallowed hard. “Yes again, sir.”
Now he was actually fondling my ass with the paddle. My whole body was tense, waiting for the blow. But Trevor was having fun. “How hard do you think I would have to paddle him? Bearing in mind that there is a right answer.”
I could clearly see the trap, but there was no way to escape it. “Hard, sir,” I moaned.
“How hard?” Trevor asked again, eager.
“Very, very hard, sir.”
There was a whistling sound, as I heard Trevor wind up, take careful aim, and then smash the paddle’s wooden face into my ass cheek, swinging it as hard as he could. The key to remember is that Trevor was a varsity tennis player — and he seemed intent on giving my ass plenty of top-spin. As he landed the first blow with a searing thwack, I tried to bite down on my lip, but an involuntary cry came out.
“What do you say?” Trevor asked.
I knew what he wanted. “Thank you, sir,” I whispered, my ass smarting horribly.
“Your welcome, my little bitch. Would you like another?” I could hear the smirk in his voice.
I closed my eyes. “Yes sir. May I have another sir?”
Thwack!!! If it was possible, this second blow was even fiercer than the first.
A pause. “Well?”
“Thank you sir,” I whimpered. “May I please have another, sir?”
“Louder! Much louder!”
“Thank you sir, may I have another sir!”
I cried out, again. “Thank you sir, may I please have another!”
“Thank you sir, may I please have another sir!’
Now he paused. “You may, bitch boy, but first I want you to kiss the pledge trainer.”
He dangled the paddle again in front of my face, directly in front of my lips. I kissed it.
“Kiss it like you mean it,” Trevor said briskly. “Kiss it because you LOVE it.”
I closed my eyes, and found myself pretending the paddle was my hot stud of a roommate. Before I knew it I was slavishly licking at it.
“OK, enough!” Trevor shouted. “The pledge trainer did not appreciate being slobbered with your saliva. For that, you will receive additional paddlings.” I heard him lean underneath the table. “Dude,” he said, with a sadistic chuckle. “You’re still hard as a rock.” He gently caressed my tied up ball-sack. I thought I would explode. “Do you realize you’re still leaking precum, foot stool?”
“Um . . . yes sir,” I managed.
He lowered his voice and leaned forward toward my ear. “Do you enjoy this, boy?”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Answer me!” he hissed
“I don’t know . . . sir,” I stammered.
Trevor took my tied up balls in is oversized palm, once again sending shockwaves of pleasure down my spine, but then, a moment later, he reached up with his other hand and flicked my ball sack with his index finger, hard. I gasped with pain, tears coming to my eyes. I hadn’t realized how much it HURT to have my balls flicked like that.
“Try that again,” Trevor suggested.
“Yes sir. I enjoy this, sir!”
“What do you enjoy?”
“You paddling me, sir!”
Trevor stood up, once again taking hold of the paddle. “That’s good,” he said. “Because I’m not nearly done.” He walked around behind me, once again letting the paddle’s wooden face caress my ass cheek. I shut my eyes and braced for the worse, but Trevor kept talking. “Listen, I have an idea bitch boy. Yeah, this is fucking perfect.” He chuckled. “Tell me something. How many more spankings do you think you can take with this paddle, if I keep using it on you this hard?”
My mind spun. My ass already felt like it had welts on it. None? But I figured if I said that Trevor would just punish me. “Um, whatever pleases you, sir?” I suggested submissively.
Trevor guffawed. “Nice try. But I want a real number.”
I swallowed. “Um . . . well it hurts a lot . . . sir. Maybe . . . two?”
“You wuss! I’m not even going to consider that as a serious proposal. Try again.”
My heart sunk. “Um . . . seven?”
“Listen, roommate, I’ll give you one more chance. But this time, we’ll make it interesting.” Trevor went to his desk, and retrieved a pen and paper. He returned, and placed the pen directly on my back. “Alright, I’m writing a number down,” he said. It felt from the motion of his pen like it was definitely a number with two digits, but it was almost impossible to tell beyond that. He folded the piece of paper up and plopped it down on the table in front of my nose. “Now, this is a fun game. I like to call it `guess how many times my roommate gets paddled.’ The rules are pretty simple. You get to guess the number I just wrote down on this piece of paper. Now, if you guess this number, or anything ABOVE it, I will accept your number, and will paddle you that number of times. If you guess BELOW it, however, to punish you for your wusiness, I will paddle you DOUBLE the number I wrote down.”
He sat down on the bed, in front of me. “There’s one more rule. When I paddle you, after every spanking, in addition to thanking me, and asking me for another, you have to COUNT each spanking, so we don’t lose track, and you are also gonna give me a good, original reason for why you deserve to be punished, and why you fucking worthless. If you lose track of the spankings, or if you run out of reasons for why you are my pathetic little bitch boy, we start over from scratch. Bear in mind, I’m going to be smacking your little ass as hard as I can the whole time. Got it?”
What else could I do? I nodded.
“What’s that, you fucker?”
“Yes sir! I understand the rules, sir!”
“OK,” he said. “Well, what number do you guess?”
I thought about it.
“Hurry up or I’ll double my number,” Trevor said.
“Thirty-six,” I guessed wildly.
Trevor smiled at me. “Bad guess,” he said, and unfolded the piece of paper. He had written “42” on it.
“Do you know what 42 times two is?” he asked me.
“Fuck,” I said.
True to his word, Trevor didn’t pull his punches. With each spanking, he wound up fully, paused, and then with an almost gleeful surge of energy sent the paddle flying full speed into my ass cheek. He was a strong guy, and he was putting all his muscle into making my behind feel the sting. He alternated between ass cheeks as he went, punishing left side, then right side, then left side again, while I crouched there, ass totally exposed to the onslaught, able only to thank him, protest my total inferiority to him, and beg him for more.
“Ten! Thank you sir! I deserve nothing more than to be your slave because my dick is so much tinier than yours, sir! Please sir, may I have another sir!”
“Eleven!! Thank you sir!! I am pleased to serve you because you are a big jock athlete on two teams, and I am a worthless fuck-up who can’t even do push-ups! Please sir, may I have another sir!”
“AHHHH!!! Twelve!! Thank you sir!! I am tied up at the foot of your bed because I could never dream of joining your frat and am only worthy to lick the sock lint from between your sweaty toes! Please sir, may I have another sir!”
“Aghhhhh!! Thirteen! Thank you sir!! I know that you are well-known all around campus, whereas I am just a lowly no-name pervert no one has ever heard of! Please sir, may I have another sir!”
By the time I had gone past 50, the pain was so blindingly severe that I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t think of what to say, or how else to proclaim my lowliness. My ass had gone completely numb with agony, and yet still the spankings fell harder than ever. “I AM NOT WORTHY SIR! I DESERVE THIS PUNISHMENT SIR!” I howled. I was shrieking so loudly I was amazed I hadn’t woken everyone up on our dorm room floor by now.
Trevor paused. “I know you’re not worthy,” he said. “I know you deserve this punishment. The trick is for you to tell me why.” I felt my grip slipping. “I DON’T KNOW SIR! I DON’T KNOW SIR!”
“Well, try very hard to know, unless you want me to start over from scratch,” Trevor said matter-of-factly.
“FIFTY-FIVE!!!! THANK YOU SIR!!!! YOU SWING THAT PADDLE SO MUCH HARDER THAN I EVER COULD THAT IT ONLY SHOWS HOW PATHETICALLY WEAK I AM COMPARED TO YOU SIR!!!! PLEASE SIR MAY I HAVE ANOTHER SIR??”
“AGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!! FIFTY-SIX SIR!!!! THANK YOU SIR!!!!! THE FACT THAT I EVER THOUGHT I COULD DISOBEY YOU ONLY SHOWS HOW INDESCRIBABLY STUPID I AM AND HOW I DESERVE TO GROVEL AT YOUR FEET FOR AS LONG AS IT PLEASES YOUR SIR!!! NOW THAT YOU’VE PADDLED ME 56 TIMES AND ARE MORE THAN HALFWAY DONE, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I BEG YOU SIR I ABSOLUTELY BEG YOU PLEASE STOP I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE MY ASS IS ON FIRE.” I was sobbing now. “PLEASE SIR MAY I HAVE ANOTHER SIR.”
Trevor chuckled sadistically from behind me. “You call that begging? You’re gonna have to try much harder than that.” He took an unusually long wind up this time.
THWAAAAACKKKK!!!! Trevor’s stroke was somehow even harder, even more savage. I cried out.
“FIFTY-SEVEN! THANK YOU SIR!!! PLEASE SIR!!!! PLEASE STOP AND I’LL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU ANYTHING I DON’T CARE WHAT I’LL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU.” I gasped between sobs.
A silence. “Well, what do you say?” Trevor demanded impatiently. I gritted my teeth. “PLEASE SIR MAY I HAVE ANOTHER SIR??”
“I don’t know,” Trevor said thoughtfully. “You want me to just stop paddling you? But I’m having so much fun. Why should I?”
THWAAAACKKKKK!! Each stroke seemed to fall harder. I writhed in pain, trying in vain to free myself from the bondage of the coffee table.
“FIFTY-EIGHT!!! THANK YOU SIR!!! PLEASE SIR I AM BEGGING YOU YOU CAN MAKE ME DO ANYTHING YOU WANT ANYTHING AT ALL!! PLEASE SIR MAY I HAVE ANOTHER SIR.”
“Anything?” Trevor said thoughtfully. “You mean that, anything? You’ll do anything I tell you to, for the entire rest of the year, no questions asked?”
“YES SIR WITHOUT HESITATION SIR!! JUST PLEASE STOP THE PADDLING I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE OF IT SIR I CAN’T!”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” said Trevor. “In fact, you can. Just watch.”
“”OH GOD!!! FIFTY-NINE SIR. THANK YOU SIR!!! OF COURSE YOUR RIGHT SIR I AM YOUR BITCH BOY YOUR FOOT STOOL YOU HAVE COMPLETE CONTROL OVER ME THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN’T DO TO ME I WAS WRONG TO SAY I COULDN’T TAKE ANYMORE WHAT I MEANT IS THE PAIN IS UNBEARABLE PLEASE HAVE MERCY ON ME SIR!!!” A pause. “PLEASE SIR MAY I HAVE ANOTHER SIR?”
“I’m confused,” Trevor said. “You keep begging me to stop, but then you keep begging for another spanking. Which is it?”
“I WANT YOU TO STOP SIR!!!”
He sighed. “Oh alright . . . fine.” A pause. “After the grand finale . . . be sure to count these”
THWAAACK!!!! THWAAACK!!! THWAAACK!!!! THWAAACK!!!!
I screamed at the top of my lunges. “SIXTY-ONE SIR!!! SIXTY-TWO SIR!!! SIXTY-THREE SIR!!! SIXTY-FOUR SIR!!!!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PLEEEEEAAAAASSE STOP SIR!!!!”
To my enormous relief, Trevor finally set the paddle down, balancing it squarely on my flat tied down back. He came back around to the front of the table, still wearing only his t-shirt, into my range of view, and I could see he had a raging hard-on; he obviously had enjoyed my punishment.
“Dude,” he said, grinning. “I wish you could see how red your ass is right now.”
He bounded nimbly up onto the coffee table, then sat down directly in front of me. He was straddling my body, so that his long, tanned, muscle-toned athletic legs were stretched out on either side of my torso, and his crotch was directly in front of my face. He squeezed my body between his legs, and put his bare feet up so they were resting on the backside of my burning ass.
“That was fucking awesome,” Trevor was saying. “Now, I’ve got a special little treat for you faggot — here’s what I want you to do. I’m horny as shit. I am gonna sit here and whack off, while you lick my hairy, sweaty balls with your tongue. Then, you are gonna take my cock in your mouth, you are gonna swallow it all the way, and you are gonna suck on it like the little fucking cocksucker you are. You are gonna swallow my entire enormous cock — you gotta take the whole fucking shaft. And if, when I shoot my enormous load, I choose to shoot it in your mouth, you are gonna swallow every last drop. And keep the paddle balanced on your back while you do it — don’t let it fall, or else.” He was already starting to rob his cock with his right hand. I hastily began to lap at his balls.
“Remember, I stopped the paddling 20 short. If you fuck any of this up,” Trevor was saying, “or if you in any way don’t give me the perfect blowjob I deserve, I’m gonna finish up where I left off.”
Trevor sat there for ten minutes, moaning softly as he yanked up an down on his cock, with me licking his hairy smelly balls, before finally shoving his ramrod erect eight inch cock into my mouth. I almost gagged on it, but I managed to take the whole thing down my throat.
He rocked back and forth, shoving his cock in and out of my mouth, savagely grunting with pleasure as he face fucked me. Despite the intensity of the pain I still felt shooting through my ass, I was still totally hard. Maybe not quite as hard as Trevor, but still definitely hard.
I hadn’t sucked a whole lot of cock before, but I definitely had some experience, and I’m told I’m pretty good. I moved my tongue around, lapping at Trevor’s dick while he plunged in and out of me, which seemed to drive him wild. Trying to stretch it out as long as possible, he made me stop several times, then continue, sucking and lapping at his cock with renewed vigor each time.
He made the whole thing last half an hour. Finally, gasping, he announced: “oh, fuck. I’m gonna come.”
I prepared to swallow it all, absolutely terrified of Trevor’s threat that he would paddle me more if I screwed up. But at the last minute, Trevor pulled out of my mouth and held his cock directly in front of my face.
“Oh fuuuuuuuuckkkkkk,” he moaned.
Cum spurted from his cock head like a firehose. He shot once, twice, three times, four times . . . each time showering my face in a waterfall of cum. It drenched my hair, my lips, my nose, my cheeks — I was dripping with it. By the time he had drained himself, there was so much cum that a pool of it had collected on the coffee table where it was running off my face.
Trevor sat there, panting for a while. Finally, he got up off the table. I was afraid he was going to say that since I hadn’t swallowed his cum (even though I couldn’t possibly have) he was going to paddle me some more. But he didn’t — instead, he rubbed his cock on the back of my head a few times, using the only dry part of my hair to clean a few last drops of cum from his cock. Then, sighing with satisfaction, he ambled over to his closet and his desk, casually putting a few things away. He ignored me completely — I didn’t dare to say a word.
He stripped his T shirt off, threw it in the dirty laundry, and then pulled on a new pair of tight boxer briefs. My eyes followed him as he ambled into the bathroom — our dorm room had its own small bathroom. I could hear him brushing his teeth.
What time was it anyway? I had lost track of time completely, but now that I thought about it I realized it was still Thursday, though by now it must be pretty late — probably well after midnight. I realized, all of a sudden, that I was exhausted. Much more urgently, however, I was beside myself with horniness. I had spent most of the day locked in a trunk, then tied up naked, then put on a leash and made to reorganize the furniture in the room to Trevor’s liking, then chained to his chair made to serve as his foot stool for hours and lick his feet clean, then as punishment for being a bad foot stool been ordered to do pushups, then as punishment for THAT been tied spread eagle into this fiendishly uncomfortable position at the foot of Trevor’s newly expanded bed and been paddled until my ass was raw with pain and I had groveled for mercy, and then finally sucked Trevor off to orgasm, and now had a face full of cum. Through it all, I had been almost fully erect, and an ever growing load had been building up in my balls. Now it was begging to be released. My ass still smarted horribly, and my whole body was sore from having been tied down in this position — my balls in particular, with the leash connected to my neck still wrapped tightly around them, were killing me. But worse than all of that was my desperation to stroke my aching cock, and my totally inability to do so.
Trevor finally remerged from the bathroom, a towel slung around his neck (I guess he had washed his face). He had his shower flip-flops on, but he kicked them off, and tossed the towel to the side, then climbed into bed.
“I’m gonna hit the sack now, foot stool,” he said with a yawn.
I looked up at him, my face still coated with cum. I knew it was a bad idea, but I asked anyway. “Please sir . . . I know as your footstool I have no right to ask this sir . . .” I blubbered pathetically, “and I appreciate your mercy so much sir, but I was wondering if you might maybe consider untying me for the night . . . sir.”
“Nope,” Trevor said shortly. He smirked. He seemed to be reading my mind. “Anything else?”
Trevor seemed to be in an indulgent mood — or as indulgent as he was every likely to be — so I pressed my luck. “Sir, can I humbly ask to . . . er . . . to be allowed to cum, sir?”
He snickered. “Oh, you poor fag. You’re begging me to let you cum? That’s the most fucking pathetic thing I ever heard of.” He cocked his head to one side. “Well, not quite,” he amended. “The most pathetic thing I ever heard of was begging to cum, and not being allowed to.” He reached for the lamp and switched it off. “Goodnight, slave.”
There was a silence for a minute, uninterrupted except for the sound of chirping crickets outside our dorm window. But even then Trevor was not through tormenting me. A moment or two later, as my eyes adjusted to the dark, he stretched his long legs all the way out, so that they once again protruded over the edge of the bed and onto the coffee table, sticking his huge feet directly in my face for at least the fourth time that day. “Hey bitch,” he instructed in a low voice, “while you try to ignore your aching little dick, before I drift off to sleep in my new King size bed, I want you to know how truly amazing it felt to blow my wad like that . . . to shower your little cocksucking face with cum.”
He suddenly pushed his body slightly forward in his bed, so that the massive soles of his smooth feet were rubbing up against my cum-covered face. The smell of cum mixed with the manly scent of his still unshowered feet.
“Lick my feet clean, bitch,” Trevor whispered. “Lick my cum from my feet, and don’t even think about stopping until you’ve swallowed every last drop.”
I did. As he rubbed his feet all over my face, mashing them around until the soles of his feet were wet with milky, sticky cum, my overworked tongue lapped his feet like a dog, swallowing the warm sticky goo drop by drop. It only made me more desperate to stroke my own cock — so desperate to stroke it that I could hardly see straight.
“Mmmmm, that’s right,” Trevor murmured, rolling over happily in his bed but continuing to press his feet up against my face. “Keep licking my cum-coated feet until it’s all gone. Sweeeet.” He yawned. “I’ll seeya in the morning, boy. Sleep tight.”
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